


Plauge

by Morpheel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Body Modification, Coming of Age, Death, Gore, Henioustuck, Henioustuck Bro, Henioustuck Dave, Henioustuck Jade, Henioustuck Rose, Hybrids, M/M, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Transmutation, crow dave, forced transformation, this is fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9898310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheel/pseuds/Morpheel
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, and three days ago it was your 13th birthday. It was also three days ago that you began your Epoch of Transmutation.Now, nothing will ever be the same as it was before.(Abandoned)





	1. The Beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Henioustuck is a fanmade comic that was created by Yorsh. It was never finished, but the concept has always been so interesting to me. So, I figure why not put my own little spin on it, and put it in Dave's perspective? Please go give the original comic a read- it was animated beautifully, and the sprites and characters are so unique.

It felt like coming out of a fog, the feeling of sensation steadily blooming around you. At first it was a passing thought in the darkness, a whisper, before suddenly everything began to come rushing back. Everything was going too fast at once- the room spinning as realization crashed down around you.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Everything fucking hurts, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it. It was a burning pressure starting from the back of your shoulders- with a weight there that can’t be removed.

The pain only grew worse as you languidly began to uncurl your fists. One was burning, the other sore. Using the one that felt the least damaged, you chanced sliding up the wet fabric of your back sticking to your skin. Old nerve endings began to fire, the touch feeling distant and empty like the rest of you.

Finally you met feathers, nearly jerking back the moment you could. The movement was sluggish and slow, just like your thoughts.

Panic beginning to flare for a moment before being silenced. You felt nothing.

The pain was still ever present though, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched no matter how hard you’d dig your nails in. Instead it left a burning sensation trailing down your body, nestling deep inside your core.

You didn’t want to open your eyes, so instead your hand began to lift once more, and rest against the bottom of your stomach where that feeling originated. All you could feel was the warm liquid oozing from a deep hole in your stomach, nearly feeling nauseous when realization hit.

But then it was gone again.

There was something morbid about being able to feel your own internal organs through a deep rooted hole in your body, but once again, everything was muted. It didn’t even bother you that you could feel each line of stitches that held open that deep hole, sowing fabric and skin together.

When you opened your eyes, all that you were met with was a bright light overhead. At least, it would be bright, if not for the shades firmly over your face. If anything, it was soothing, to know that such a vital part of you was still where it belonged. How did you know it was vital? You…had no clue.

You went to adjust the frames better over your face- only to pause when your hand instead bumped against something that caused a burning agony to shoot through your face. A startled noise- barely human- ripped through your mouth. It sounded like a fucking caw.

All at once the panic began to settle over you again, your arms twitching and nails scrabbling against the table you were no doubt resting on. The burning in your back was only made worse by the pulling of stitches- limbs you didn’t even know you had stretching in a painful tug against your back.

Your eyes desperately scanned over the surroundings, still blinded as the light caused any shape in the area to be turned into a shadow. It was all too much- then suddenly nothing at all. Your body went still as apathy spread through you.

What were you upset about? You don’t know.

Instead of panic, you were instead filled with curiosity. With your eyes finally open to the world around you, you could look at what was causing the agonizing pain in your other hand. Or…claw.

You could only see the shape of the mangled limb that was held in front of your face, but it left you fascinated none the less. The fingers were long and thin, with curved talons extruding from the top. It burned to clasp and open your new fist- but it was mesmerizing none-the-less.

It reminded you of a birds foot. Gripping the sleeve of a…suit? You slowly tug it down, before cringing at the sight. The stitches holding the new appendage were swollen, oozing a green puss that you had no doubt been the source of the pain. If you moved it too much, it seemed that the skin would tear just a bit more, giving way to more puss.

You decided you should probably leave it alone.

Staring up at the ceiling for another blank moment, you knew that something was wrong. There was something that you needed to remember, something extremely important that was pounding at the back of your skill.

You found your memory blank, no matter how many connections you felt you made.

It was something blue. Blue and black. A gift. A day.

With a frustrated growl leaving you, you merely allow your head to fall back, only to wince as the pain in your face increased with every expression. You had a strange feeling that what was going on with your hand was happening to whatever was on your face.

In fact, what was on your face? It felt heavy against your body, a weight that couldn’t be shaken. Moving the still human hand towards your face, at first you felt the stitches. They were burning and aggravated as well, and no doubt had to be infected.

Great.

Of course as you felt along the shape of it, it seemed to only conceal the upper half of your face. Your mouth was thankfully left open, and there was a dip that allowed your nose to peek out. But the more you felt along the edges, the more it became apparent that there was more going on with the shape than that.

You felt along your nose, before feeling the mask slowly curling along with your face as well. The farther you felt, the more the mask curved. But feeling along the top of it, it became apparent just what it was that you were feeling.

It was a curved nose, typically the ones worn by plague doctors.

It all became too much to handle, and you had to drift away. You were a he, and he finally let his hand drop down again, eyes shutting tightly. There was a strange pull in his chest, something urging him that there was something amiss. Did humans have plague masks sown to their faces and a bird foot for a hand?

Nothing made sense, and it was steadily growing a storm inside of him. There was something missing. Pieces of the puzzle were scattered everywhere, to the point he didn’t even know if it was worth it to gather them.

He could just lay on the table, staring blankly at the blinking light overhead for hours. Who’s to say he hasn’t already done that?

No- he knew. He knew it’s only been exactly 13 minutes, twenty two seconds, and one two three four five nanoseconds since he’s first moved his limbs. There was an invisible clock ticking, the sound reverberating through his head.

How did he know what time was when nothing else made sense? How did he understand a concept as fluent and ever changing as the fabric of time itself?

He shut down, pushing the thought and ticking to the back of his head again. It hurt to think about, so he just wouldn’t do it. No use, when nothing made sense anyways.

Something muffled was edging on his senses, however. At first it was a quiet scrape of metal, then the chattering of something wooden. He realized what he was experiencing was sound; the sound of something other than his own breathing.

Muscles clenched before he even knew what he was doing, instinct telling him to get away. A connection- wood and clacking meant danger. He had to get away, had to move, had to get up before-

A shrill scream left him the second he felt something being stabbed through his stomach, the pain only accented by the pull of the stitches. The object was cold and hard, sliding easily through his guts as a fresh wave of nausea began to roll through him. 

He nearly had to turn his head and puke, before the feeling of liquid splattering over his face and stomach lifted the anguish to a new level.

His screams filled the apartment as the item lodged through his stomach kept him pinned despite his thrashing, the feeling of the liquid biting deep into the infected wounds making it feel like his body was on fire.

He heard a laugh that paralyzed him to his core, causing his eyes to finally fly open as memories began to pour back. Birthday, transmutation day, pesterchum, John Egbert, strife. The memories were flying faster than he could keep up with.

The roof, a sword fight, the delusion that if he won he wouldn’t have to become one of them. He wouldn’t have to change. He could stay as he was.

When he finally could see past the light, it was to a single orange eye staring down at him, the face of a mangled monstrosity smiling eerily down to the poor creature he became. Through the silhouette he could see it raise a bottle, before splashing that burning liquid over his face once more.

The pain nearly had his eyes rolling back, before finally everything went thankfully dark again.

Your name is Dave Strider, and three days ago was your birthday. It was also three days ago that began your Epoch of Transmutation. And it's three days later, as your subconscious slowly fades to the feeling of Bro tugging at your stitches, that you would never be the same.


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was one thing to get used to the physical changes that you underwent during your Transmutation. It's another to endure the mentality that a vital part of you was missing.  
> You'd think with all of the modifications and extras added onto you, you'd feel complete like all of the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Talk about a positive response! I didn't even anticipate the first chapter receiving anything over 5 kudos. It seems I'm not the only one with a passion for this dying au! I really, really do hope that I won't disappoint you all.

If it was even remotely possible- it seems you've woken up feeling even more like a frothing pile of horseshit than when you first went to bed. It was like a typical Monday morning, only twice as shitty. It felt like you had the hangover of the century, only without the knowledge of the night before. Hell, how much did you drink last night? WHAT did you drink? 

You had to have gotten into Bro's liquor cabinet. It wouldn't be the first time that you did. No matter if you were obedient or a little shit, he'd still beat you on the roof, so why not have some fun beforehand?

Of course it finally was starting to dawn on you-

He totally had to strife you last night for you to feel this bad. That had to be it. It felt like you were falling apart at the seams, each muscle screaming it's agony as you finally attempted to rise from the hard surface you were resting on. Everything felt like a distant and fuzzy memory. 

It was your birthday yesterday. You know this, because your best friend sent you the lamest, most ironic gift he could ever muster. Only, it wasn't irony in the Strider sense. All irony had the subcategory of sincerity. It wasn't enough to merely acknowledge the uncoolness of your passions- you had to embrace it. When you did, you ascend the latter, until the uncool turned to cool.

At least, that's what you think.

Anyways, he got you these actually pretty banging shades. They fit your face like a charm, seemed to be in good quality, and didn't seem to be dipped in piss or anything like that. You were actually about to consider it a sentiment. That is, until John broke the news to you that these shades touched Ben Stiller's gaunty, slightly creepy face. 

Yet that only motivated you more. Irony because of the fact it was meant to be ironic, only you're actually wearing them now sincerely. Shit, that's off the charts of irony. You'd have to bring that one up with Bro later for the professional review. 

Suddenly there was something itching at the back of your head, aching as if something important was eluding you. You hated just waking up. It always gave you the weirdest fucking rushes. 

You scrunched up your nose, only to feel more discomfort. It was like your entire face was engulfed in a dull burn, like hot wax melting away at your seams. Jesus, how bad did he give it to you last night?

You moved your hand up, only to recoil from the immense pain radiating down your arm. You dropped it helplessly to the hard table, the thud shivering down your bones as the first thing you did was shoot the other hand over to grip the other in its grasp. Only, when your hand met with where your other hand should be, something cold and plated was resting there instead. It wasn’t human, not at all.

What scared you even more was the fact that you could still feel the phantom touch of your hand, the sensation of skin brushing against the scales of whatever it was you were touching. 

Fighting down the midst of a panic attack, you try to kick your feet over the table you were resting on- only to let out a shout of distress as the sound of tools clattering against the floor echoed across the room. Fuck fuck fuck, Bro was going to kill you for that. 

All of your thoughts were completely haywire as you attempted to get your footing. The sensation of numbness wasn't pleasant, especially to stand on. Your nerves jumpstarted one by one- before you buckle. As you fell, it seemed every part of your body attempted to flail out in order to catch you. Even ligaments you had no clue you possessed.

All that was heard was the sound of shattering overhead, the room steadily encroached by darkness from the shattered lamp as you attempted to catch yourself. The pain hurt worse than you could have ever imagined. It felt like something was lodged inside of your back. Only..not your back? It was attached to your back, but whatever it was absolutely was not supposed to be there.

That hand wasn't supposed to be there. The pain shouldn't be there. Fucking christ, you even had the suspicion you shouldn't be here either. Whatever this Transmutation was, nobody should have to endure it. Nobody should have to feel the type of crawling agony digging through your skin, eating away at your reserves until finally your arms couldn't hold your weight anymore. You were a miserable heap on the floor, choked sobs producing an inhumane wail. 

It was like nails to your ears. 

What the fuck were you? Why were you here?

Sometimes, it hurt far more to remember than to forget.

You were a monster. Just one of the creatures sauntering through a bleak and dead world. A world where adaptation required you to give up mortality for the fleeting chance of true life.

Except, oh wait, they just slaughtered you like cattle when the population grew too large for the depleting resources to handle. Damn, how could you almost forget that one? Definitely couldn’t let it slip your mind while in the midst of a goddamn existential crisis.

Staggering back up to your knees, you clutched at your throat while bile threatening to rise through your mouth. Did Bro fuck with your vocal chords too? Is that how you’ve been squawking like a bird hyped up on steroids?

Honestly, you didn’t even want to know if you could still manage English. Or even any noises resembling the humanity you once had. Best delusion yourself before shit went any more off the deep end.

Yet to your luck, you were blinded by yet another goddamn light. Only instead of the bulb that you shattered, it was the hallway door finally swinging open. There was something terrifying about the silhouette of the broken man before you.

He dragged his body towards you like a puppet without strings. Slow, clumsy, and with a disgusting limp to his patched up frame. It was almost Strider level of ironic. He seemed like the slow and languid type, when that was far from the truth.

He was in front of you in the blink of an eye, head tilting towards the shattered bottles and broken glass scattered across the floor. Shit- you hadn’t even noticed that you had fallen into it until you chanced glancing down to your hands.

In the newly bathed light of the hallway, it became apartment that this was no nightmare. That was a goddamn bird hand attached to your arm, and it seemed that glass shards had gotten lodged inside of it.

“God fuckin’ damnit, kid.” The haunting voice echoed into your head, grating your subconscious as it probed for weakness. Like the seasoned champ that you were, it was easier to shut Bro out.

Parting your lips, you took a deep breath. Well, guess it was now or never to figure out if you even could speak. At first the noise that came out was more air than syllables, but it seemed you got it down after a moment.

“I mean, don’t blame me, Bro. I had a rude and painful awakening last time, and I dunno what you were expecting placing a bunch of breakable shit on the table you stowed my body away on.”

Worst part was, the body part wasn’t incorrect. Nearly everyone died at least halfway through their Transmutation, before having “life” pumped back into them.

Even with the sarcastic response, it seemed Bro was far more concerned with other things. He bent down, head slacking as if losing control of his body. His transmutation was no doubt the hardest on him. There was something morbid about a guy with control issues being turned into the puppet. Too bad he took out the fustration on you instead.

He was pushing broken bottles of black liquid and blood packs aside- before finally finding what he was looking for. He rose up, clutching a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his hand as he approached you again.

“You’re damn lucky I didn’t plan on having any more brats than you. I don’t need those supplies- except for this.” He echoed, tone displeased as he raised the black coated, shattered vial.

Just looking at it made you sick.

It was some special serum shit that animated the body and kept it preserved and active, eventually replacing the bloodstream and allowing humanity’s newly discovered immortality.

The contents were questionable, the ingredients unknown- but typically the kit was provided for storage when a new child is born to the parents. Sure, there were professional places that would do it for you, but most parents preferred to keep the tradition running.

How fucked up is that?

That disgusting ooze was pulsing through your veins with every breath, coating your organs and infecting your body with its “gift”. How could immortality be twisted and tainted into this vile concept? Why the fuck did they have to put a mask on your face and split open your body limb by limb to do it?

You didn’t have time to ponder it, because soon Bro was lashing out and grabbing your arms. Using his free hand, he lifted the hem of your sleeve, before looking pleased as the stitches were only red and irritated. You knew for a fact that they were dripping puss earlier- at least it seemed that wasn’t the case.

It still sucked ass though when he didn’t hesitate to dump the peroxide all over your goddamn arm. You had to slap your good hand over your mouth, tears blurring your vision as you could see the stitches bubbling up and fighting the infection.

Worst is you couldn’t even rub your goddamn eyes. The mask was sown to your face, and you weren’t even sure you wanted to know what would happen if you were to try and take it off now.

“Fuck.” You hissed, catching Bro’s attention as the puppet turned its blank stare up at you. With a chuckling laugh leaving its chest, its jaw hung wide open for you. A few years ago that would have been unnerving. Now? It’s just expected.

That, and who were you to judge? You were sure you had to be even worse.

“You’ve been a handful,” Bro began, moving the peroxide up in order to splash it over your face. That time the stinging did hurt enough- causing you to turn your head and wretch loudly. Yet Bro kept talking.

“Most subjects don’t get infections like this. I had to pump so much shit into you just to keep it from eating away at your body. You’ve been out for four days.” He chastised, as if it were your fault he used shitty needles and unsterile equipment to rip apart your body. Fuck him.

Dave elicited to stay quiet, head hung down as the liquid steadily dripped down his mask and down his mouth. He felt sick, his stomach violently protesting as a steady stream of bile just kept dripping from his mouth.

Except- wait.  It was way too fucking thick to just be throw up. Chancing in lifting his arm to wipe at his chin, he pulled back, before having to turn away at the sight of black smeared across his hand.

He felt disgusted in himself, absolutely appalled in what he has become. It was only made worse when Bro was lifting a mirror from one of the many pockets sown into his body. The glass was already shattered and dirty, showing multiple images of yourself reflected back.

At least, you deduce that the creature staring back at you had to be you. A you that had pitch black hair, feathers protruding from your neck and waist, and a large wingspan composed of what appeared to be crow feathers.

Of course, it seemed that Bro just HAD to model you after your favorite avian friends. You had no doubt that some of these feathers more than likely belonged to the very birds you fed and tended to in the comfort of your room.

It made you sick- but you supposed there could have been worse designs. You would have anticipated Bro picking a smuppet themed design of all things, and not batted an eye. In fact you were prepared to try and kill yourself through any means possible if he had made that choice.

Thankfully- or not- you live to see another day. But turning your attention back to the shattered glass you continued to gauge the new appearance you were stuck with.

One thing you noticed was that you were indeed correct- you had a plague doctor mask on. That alone was okay. It was a pretty badass choice, all things considered.

The only thing that ruined it was the fact that, plastered into the mask, was the shades that John Egbert got you for your birthday. They appeared to even be a part of you too.

There was an ever ticking red gear projected into the shades of your mask, a white pupil standing out amidst the pattern. Every time you moved your head in the mirror, the pupil would follow, as if it were your own eye.

Pulling back your clawed hand, you couldn’t help but strike it through the glass.

He had to just get his dirty fucking hands on everything that you love. He couldn’t just let that pass, could he? No, oh no. He couldn’t let you have one single thing to hold onto and keep as a reminder of the last gift you got as a human.

He had to make it a part of you. Had to stick it right onto your face so you couldn’t even appreciate the sentiment without having to stare at your putrid design through the mirror.

You pulled your fist back slowly, watching as shards of glass began to fall down to match the equally dangerous mess. You didn’t even care that your hand was even more ripped up.

“I want to go to my fucking room.” You demanded, feathers bristling on end. Did you know you were doing that? Nope, not at all.

Lucky for you, it seemed Bro was more amused than mad. As if he were expecting this result, too. He stepped out of your way with a sluggish step, motioning sarcastically to the door.

“Dinner’s at 6. Be out by then, and don’t be a little bitch the next time I splash you with hydrogen peroxide. Also, I’d get the glass out soon, if I were you.” He chastised, before slowly turning his head as you finally began to step out into the hallway.

At first it was hard to adjust to the light- but soon your pupils were contracted enough to be able to step through the artificial lights. Lord knows the light wouldn’t come from outside- there hasn’t been a sunny day since the atmosphere was fogged up by pollution.

Still, it was easy to walk the path to you room, having to fold your new wings as close to your body as you could. It hurt like a bitch when you managed to smack one against your doorframe, but it was like a weight was lifted off of your chest the moment you were finally in the comfort of your room.

You honestly didn’t even know what to do first. Nothing felt like it had any sort of meaning. You didn’t want to mix music, or try to take photographs. Hell, your crows weren’t even outside the window.

Yet the computer seemed to catch your attention first.

You sat down, adjusted your wings around the new position they had to rest on at the chair, and finally booted up the system once more. No doubt your friends had been worried about you- you could only imagine the turmoil John went through.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye before Bro was dragging your ass to the roof for a strife. All you could give him was the shittiest pre-warning that day imaginable.

But now, you had the chance to message him again. How would you even Segway that shit? Hey, its four days later, and I’m a hideous disgusting bird creature. How you doing?

Shit, that reminds you.

Rose’s birthday was exactly a day after yours. If you’ve been out for 4 days, then that means…there’s a damn good chance that she has already experienced her own Epoch of Transmutation.

You swallowed hard as you thought of all of this, watching as your computer finally loaded and began to open pesterchum automatically. You supposed you’d find out one way or another- especially considering you had notifications from all of your friends.

The real question is; who should you talk to first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just to clear things up, Dave is only coherent about the situation because the imaginary chosen chemical I bullshitted for story's sake cements transmutations. It is still working through his brain, so he still has moments of clarity between confusion. 
> 
> Also, lets do some refs, shall we?  
> Henioustuck Dave- http://mspfanventures.com/?s=1018&p=19 This is the actual comic!
> 
> Henioustuck Bro- https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/a2/6f/08/a26f08d3202345f90e5e3d71f4542caf.png   
> This one is by MiniatureOwl on Deviantart!


	3. Rose Lalonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding to talk to Rose first, Dave is startled by the complete 360 her personality has taken. Would the same thing wind up happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I had to figure out how to use the Homestuck Skin just for this fic. It was a goddamn nightmare, and I never want to fucking do this again. Too bad I have so much more text based dialogue to get through  
> Anyways so far the positive response to this story so early on is still blowing me away! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading thus far!

You supposed, in the end, it would only be the logical choice to talk to Rose first. She no doubt just experienced her transmutation, and may receive solace from the fact that you too experienced the same. You could bitch about it together, curse the fates and eldritch gods that allowed such a cruel fate to happen to them. Yeah, it would be an enjoyable conversation.

-Then again, now that you think about it, Harley no doubt had to be done with her transmutation too. How does a dog even fucking perform an operation like that? The thought gave you the heebie jeebies, so you would definitely stick with Rose for now. Sometimes it just strikes you as weird that all of your birthdays are so goddamn close together. Jade's on December 1rst, yours being December 3rd, and Rose's being December 4rth. 

You guys constantly teased John that he should have been born December 2nd- then it would have been a true birthday squad. But no, he's the youngest of you four, and that alone has been the blunt of many, many jokes on his behalf. Yet now that you think about it, it's just cruel.

He has to sit there alone, for days on end, waiting for his all friends to finish being mutilated and transformed into monstrous beasts that only vaguely resembled the shells of what they once were. You wondered if John's talked to Jade yet. Or if he and Rose are currently talking, considering their online icons were showing.

Honestly, you were scared. What if things changed now that you were a monster? What if everything was suddenly different, all because now he had a mask on his face? Hell, at the time you never even thought that John might treat you all differently when you come back as you are now. 

All the more reason to ignore the blinking icon by his name. 

He was trying to pester you first, but you just. You couldn't right now. Everything was still too fresh, the wounds still raw, and you just needed to find comfort in someone who went through the same shit as you. Jade was always a pretty swell girl, but there was quite nothing like the snarky horseshit you could expect to find from your sister.

So, steeling your nerves, you finally open the conversation.

What meets your eyes first is lines upon lines upon fucking lines of purple text. You decide to scan to the very top to figure out just what it was that you had missed while you were gone.

\-- tentacleTherapist  [TT]  began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TT: So it seems that we've hit the proverbial end to our humanity. 

TT: At least, I'm to assume that you have. You haven't been replying.

TT: If I had to take a wild card guess, your Bro is currently handing your ass to you flat on a platter. Perhaps in a time where children weren't torn apart and transformed into grotesque creatures as a Rite of Passage into adulthood, that would be considered a form of physical abuse.

TT: It just seems like insult to injury, knowing that he has to put you in your place before destroying every piece of you with a scalpel and some black fluid. 

TT: Yet I digress, because tomorrow I will be experiencing the same fate.

TT: Maybe not through a rooftop strife and physical beating, but I believe mother will no doubt hold some passive aggressive stalemate with me to coax me out of my room. 

TT: If I had to presume, she may attempt to bribe me with that which I hold dearest to me. Or, what she believes that I still hold dearest to me. Wizards have truly lost their charm. The concept of magic and witchcraft is blandly overrated.

TT: If magic was real, or even a plausible thought to our generation, what kind of wizard would wield a wand with mandibles for hands? 

TT: It was a pleasant distraction while it lasted, though. The thought of Eldritch deities of old staring down upon us, whispering secrets of dark magic to assist in escaping the true evils that present itself in our world. 

TT: The only thing it ever could be was a distraction.

TT: If I may say, what even was the point of living as a human? Why must the age of transmutation begin at 13? Wouldn't it just made sense to do it when we're younger.

TT: Maybe we wouldn't question our fate as much. It would be better than sitting locked up in our rooms, clutching a bottle of frankly disgusting Akvinata close to hopefully forget about the fact two of your closest friends are being torn apart. 

TT: Funny thing is, you always remember.

TT: I am currently shitfaced drunk, locked into my room with a chair held helplessly against the doorhandle. As if that would ever stop my mother. The woman is nothing if not persistent. The stupid cunt.

You had to stop reading. There was something so fucking pathetic about watching the most calm and reasonable of your group steadily break down, right in front of your eyes. It hurt like nothing you've ever felt before. She was miserable. Hell, she probably went beyond miserable. Just like how all of you had to sit back and nervously bid Jade goodnight on the first, she's having to potentially bid farewell to you. Not just in a temporary "see you in three days!" kind of deal. 

She thought you wouldn't come back as you. Hell, she even thought that she wouldn't come back as her. Could that even happen? Sure, you're immortal and have wings and shit. But...would you really stop being you after a transmutation?

You liked to think you still had your head on your shoulders- unlike other transmutations you've seen. Hah. Fucking get it? Because some of them literally lose their heads?

That isn't funny right now.

But still, you knew who she was, you knew who you were, and you knew who Jade was. You vaguely remember yours and John's conversation before you were sweeped off to get the shit beat out of you. 

You were still you...right?

Okay, yeah. Less depressing bullshit, and more reading. Rose still had a bit more to say before the end of this log. So steeling down your emotions, you scanned your eyes back down the text.

TT: Sure, I may be coping terribly, but I believe John is doing worse. First Jade, now you, and finally I will be the last to go. I remember when the worst of our concerns was having to convince our guardians to supply us enough funds to afford decent birthday gifts for three people at once. 

TT: Now it's all a matter of who will obtain the most grotesque form in the end, and how we as a friend group will manage after the deterioration of our higher mental functions.

TT: I suppose that's the worst fear of mine.

TT: It is one thing to gain an extra set of limbs, or to have your face ripped off and replaced with the rear end of our business instead. 

TT: It is another thing entirely to find yourself stripped of everything that once made you who you are today. 

TT: I suppose the thing I'm most terrified about, and down half of a bottle of vodka over, is losing my own sense of who I am.

TT: Will I remember who I was before mother dearest pokes around in my head? Will I remember my friends, my family, my experiences and thoughts that make me the person I am?

TT: I almost don't want to know the answer. I think I'd rather be dead than allow myself to be but a shell of who I was. 

TT: What would even be the point of living at that point?

TT: If you can't recognize me for who I am, and see my personality in the creature I become, I wouldn't even be heartbroken if you never made contact with me again.

TT: I wouldn't want to put up with my shit, so I don't expect you all to either.

TT: Hm. When did it get to be so late? I don't recall how long I've been sitting here staring at an empty bottle.

TT: I hope that no matter what your brother is doing to you, that you will at least continue to be you.

TT: Goodnight, Dave.

TT: I look forward to when your Transmutation is over.

\-- tentacleTherapist  [TT]  ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

 

That was it. There were no new messages after that. Nothing about her mom in the morning, nothing regarding how she was being dragged off to get stuffed and stitched or whatever the hell else could be happening to her. It was just blank, save for the chat box just below her messages. What do you even say after reading something like that?

A simple hello would just be too casual, but asking her what happened may be even worse. It was an angle you had no clue how to tackle, and it was driving you up a wall. What do you say to the person who just had an existential crisis before getting dragged off to be transmutated? As you were trying to think, it only became steadily more and more frustrating.

Your hand was starting to ache. Not the one that was perfectly healthy- of course it had to be the bird claw. Could you even consider it a hand at this point? It's like taking a foot, sowing it to your hand, and trying to sell it off as a fully functioning body part. It just didn't look right, feel right- and however Bro connected it to your muscles, it didn't even feel right.

The wrist was hard to bend, one of the fingers hardly wanted to move, and it seemed like there just wasn't enough flexible ligaments to get the hand to work properly. It was a fucked up mess, and made you just want to test your own immortality by just ripping the damn thing off. 

It was borderline useless to type with, anyways! As you tried to scan your hand across the keyboard and think of a decent response to say, the claws just kept trying to get caught under the buttons and the entire thing is longer than your actual other hand. It would take a hell of a lot of time to get used to that.

For now, though, you actually manage to type something...before deleting it. And then you'd type something else. Before deleting that too.

It was a pretty straightforward cycle from there. You think you'd know how to word something, it would get lost to you or sound awful when you read it again, and then you'd have to delete it. You really hope she wasn't just sitting there, waiting for your response. 

You rest your head on your hand a moment later, a low sigh making it's way out of you. This was harder than you thought. You had no clue how you would talk to any of your friends. 

So, in a typical Strider fashion, you decide fuck it and begin to type out the first thing that came to your head.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG]  began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  \--

TG: happy belated birthday

TG: you know

TG: three days late

TG: i would have sent you a message on your actual birthday but yeah i was a bit tied up

TG: and by tied up i mean cut up

Fuck, okay, that was so goddamn uncalled for. On a scale of one to smooth, that was about on the level of rocky road. You should have sat there and thought through what you were going to say like a reasonable person. This is why you shouldn't be trusted when rambling. 

You sigh, before hoping that there was some damage control could be done. Maybe it wasn't that bad? She knew you always reverted to humor whenever you were overwhelmed and stressed. If you had to guess, you both could share some tense mutual understanding that you needed to shut your mouth. Nobody wanted to be reminded what happened to you.

The ping of notification nearly gave you a heart attack- since you knew she had to have replied when you were pondering how to fix the damage. But what greeted you...surprised you, to say the least. 

TT: It's okay, Dave! I'm positive that the sentiment would have blown me out of the water if you did!

TT: In fact, it's easy to say that if I were to get a notification from you early I would have been quite concerned! 

TT: Considering there was a very good chance you were already dead by the time I was dragged off to be put into my new form. :3

You almost had to check the chumhandle to be sure this was still the same girl messaging you. Rose would never use a cat face, not even in the most dire of situations. She would rather gouge both of her eyes out and shove them up her own ass before she stooped low enough to really use an emoticon of any kind. That was John and Jade's thing.

So what the fuck was up with the sudden happy exclamation marks and cheery attitude? Rose always was the pinnacle of self control and presentation, and was almost a bit stoic at times. I mean, changes were to be expected during the transmutation process, but what the fuck was going on here?

TG: uh

TG: yeah

TG: you feeling okay after that by the way

Yeah, you could work with this. Just ask her what was up. It was the easiest solution here. Maybe she was just trying to mess with you at first? It could be a sort of mind game, or just for shits and giggles. 

You didn't know, okay? And it fucking sucked. This was your sister here. You knew her better than almost anyone. And this? So far this wasn't her.

TT: Actually, I'm feeling quite splendid, thank you for asking! 

TT: After my transmutation, it took a few days of adjustments, but I believe I have finally grasped the basics of how to use my new attachments to the best of my abilities. 

TT: Having tentacles for arms makes it unsurprisingly difficult to grasp objects. You would think such versatile tools would aid me more than two arms ever could. 

TT: Well- they're less tentacles, and moreso rose vines. Which makes it even more difficult to grasp delicate objects, such as my knitting projects, without tearing them to shreds! Oh well, they weren't that important to me anyways. 

TT: How are you faring after your own transmutation. I want to hear every single last detail! 

TG: wait hold up lets take a step back here

TG: are you literally a walking hentai now

TG: what do you mean tentacles?

TT: What do I mean by tentacles? I just told you, silly! They are my arms now, and last I checked there are no underaged young girls around for me to slither them around. 

TT: Hehe, that was a joke, if you couldn't tell. 

TT: But I do find that having my upper limbs replaced with something far sharper, and much more heavier, has been proving challenging. Especially considering that whenever I feel the urge to scratch my face, I often times forget just how sharp my arms are. 

TT: My stitching can just get so, so itchy at times. You'd find that having soft wool constantly sown to your face may be a soothing factor. So many pretty colors and patterns to look at! Yet whenever I feel that ever so common discomfort of the "sweater itch", I make the fell decision to scratch it! 

TT: As you can imagine, thorns and delicate stitching don't mix very well. Mother has had to do many repairs on me thus far, but I believe I am finally making a conscious effort to not scratch! Despite how tempting it still is. 

TT: I'm sure you're extremely excited towards seeing my form. If you would like, I could see if I could try and capture an image on my laptop computer? In return I demand to see your transmutation as well! It's only fair! X3 

TG: no thanks

TG: i think im good for now

TT: Awwww! Don't be such a spoiled sport, Dave! I just want to see what choice that your guardian has made regarding your transmutation! 

TT: What's wrong, does the cat have your tongue? 

TG: honestly i didnt think youd be this chill towards the whole transmutation thing

TG: dont you remember oh i dont know

TG: freaking out over it earlier

If you were to grip the computer mouse any harder in your clutch, you swore it would have had to snap under the pressure. Rose was acting apeshit bananas, all over the place, and way too open to the whole transformation thing for this to actually be her. Worst off was that you couldn't even mentally picture what she was talking about half the time.

What did she mean by rose vine arms? Roses don't grow on goddamn vines. And did she really need to mention stitches right now? Just the thought of them were making your own feel like they were crawling, your good hand moving up to scratch. You couldn't help it at this point. The remaining infection was like torture under your skin.

You were surprised that it was taking a while for Rose to respond. She typically never took more than a minute to get a response out. Yet here you are, sitting here for five goddamn minutes, just scanning over the sent text in disbelief. She couldn't be gone, right? The Rose he knew still had to be in there. Finally a ping was catching his attention again.

TT: Why yes, actually, I do! 

TT: I was so scared...over nothing! 

TT: Transmutation has been one of the best things to happen to humanity! Aren't you happy with your chosen form, Dave? You can live forever with it now! 

TT: Haha, well, at least until they kill you when you get to be too old and take up too many resources! 

TT: But my point still stands! Aren't you happy, Dave?

TG: what the fuck

TG: no im not happy about this

TG: and neither should you be

TT: But...why not? I just can't wrap my head around it! 

TG: im a fucking monster dude

TG: the shades that john got me are apparently like my new eyeballs beyond my actual eyes. and i have feathers everywhere and blood and

TG: come on seriously

TG: you cant actually be happy with this

TG: not when you sent me those lines of text before you were dragged away god knows when

TT: Actually, she had dragged me off very early in the morning! 

TT: Caught me the moment I finished wretching up my poor decisions of last night into the toilet! If I wasn't mistaken, I may even suggest that she had planned this all along. That I would attempt to abscond from the transmutation process, and fight back, had I been not hung over that is! 

TT: One conveniently placed bottle of alcohol later, and I was already falling right into her clutches! Not that I mind. I love my design for my transmutation! 

TT: She had to have been thinking of my preferences when it came to this design. My features have been accented into something far more feline, and the thorns were an eye catching touch. 

TT: Now come on, spill the beans already! I need to know what your transmutation looks like! It's been burning the back of my mind with curiosity since you first disappeared. 

TG: theres not much to say really

TG: i have a plauge doctors mask and wings with a shit ton of feathers all over my neck and waist

TG: i could have had worse forms but seriously i was kind of anticipating getting to bash on the whole transmutation thing with you

TT: But why on earth would I ever bash on something that has opened up so, so many doors of possibilities to me! So far, despite the normal expected setbacks that adjusting to a new body can cause, I have found nothing but positives for the transformation that has taken place! 

TT: If anything, I am actually extremely curious as to why you find that these transmutations are a bad thing for humanity and mankind. 

TT: Perhaps you just have yet to open your eyes and look at all of the benefits and doors that an opportunity like this has opened for you! If you would like, we could sit and talk about that instead? I have many subjects on the matter! 

TG: actually i just remembered i have stuff and things to do

TT: Stuff and things? :3c 

TT: Well, busy boy, if you finish with those stuff and things I am more than free to talk this out with you! 

TG: yeah bye

\-- turntechGodhead [TG]  ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  \--

You weren't okay.

Rose wasn't okay.

Actually, fuck it, that wasn't Rose.

She was goddamn right. She was actually gone after the transmutation. Hardly a shred of her remained in the psychotic slappyhappy cat shit she was pulling right now, and it was tearing you up worse than actually getting cut in half. Which, coincidentally, you're starting to wonder if it actually happened to you.

You felt like you were mourning someone that wasn't even gone. She was alive, as far as the definition of alive went. All of you were.

But she wasn't there.

You found your head in your hands a moment later, ignoring the insistent ping of someone else on your computer. They could fucking wait until your existential crisis was over. Rose wasn't Rose. Fucking christ she didn't even KNOW she wasn't herself. Would that mean that Jade wouldn't be Jade? 

Yet, that wasn't the first and foremost on your mind right now. Your chest was gripped with panic, the one hand with actual sweat glands still attached cold and clammy. Not that you weren't always cold in the first place, but still. This was a new kind of grip on you. You felt like your world was slowly flipping upside down and speeding up, and nothing you could do to keep up. All because of one singular thought haunting you:

If none of your friends were them, what if you weren't yourself either? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a reference of what Rose's transmutation looks like! This is from the actual comic: http://mspfanventures.com/?s=1018&p=33  
> Now I'll leave the next chapter up to you guys. Would you want Dave to either  
> A. Message Jade  
> or  
> B. Message John.  
> I'm personally stuck between choosing who he talks to first. So I'll just leave that option here.


	4. Harley?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that transmutations could give you supernatural abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with formatting again. Lets hope it doesn't delete all of one character's text when I mess up one HTML line.  
> Yes, that happened with Rose, before you ask. Right when I was done with the chapter. Had to write all of her lines again and format them one by one as I did so.

Even when you were caught up in grief, there was still that ever present ticking, chiming away in the back of your head. It was almost maddening, the more you thought about it. Seconds going by, so neat and formatted, even when your other mental functions were spiraling out of control. Why did you know the time? Why was that fucking important? 

It made you want to rip out your hair, the feathers in it could be damned. Anything to get the clock out of your head. Anything to make time stop passing you by like this. 

You were just about at your wits end, when suddenly you noticed a green glow radiating from behind your shades. It wasn't really enough to keep your attention for long.

But what did pull you out of your grief, however, was the sound of your computer launching into the air and crashing back down in front of you. It startled you bad enough to let out the most ridiculous of squawks, actually. And your feathers were puffed up? Wow. Talk about smooth.

While you were attempting to gather your shit from falling off of your desk, it was then that you noticed the room around you was bathed in that eerie glowing green light. Casting your eyes up, you noticed a lone notification displayed on your screen. Shit, even the screen was glowing green around a very, very familiar name.

You had no clue what in the fuck was going on. You had enough to worry about as it is- last you need is some outside force fucking with your computer. At the very least everything seemed to be generally in order, and the computer was working. So you smooth your stupid bird feathers down, get yourself in order, before hovering your mouse over the icon the glowing green was coming from.

It was Jade's.

You didn't exactly want to have a conversation with her so soon, but something weird tells you that if you were to avoid it that green jedi force thing would happen again.

You click on her name, before being surprised when it all seemed to be pretty straightforward in terms of messages. There wasn't nearly as much waiting for you as Rose had.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  \--

GG: daaave!

GG: happy birthday!!! i just woke up! :D

GG: dave?

GG: aw man did i just miss you?

GG: thats stupid, ugh! 

GG: i guess it is a bit later on your side of the timezones and stuff.

GG: fine, ill talk to you again in three days!

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  \--

Well...that was shockingly tame, actually. A sigh of relief made it's way through you, a bit of the weight lifted from your shoulders momentarily. Jade was acting like herself, right down to the emoticons. You had this irrational fear that suddenly Rose would gain an affinity for using them, and Jade would reject the concept of them all together. That's a scale of irony you wouldn't have wanted to measure.

So far so good. You hoped it wouldn't be too much of a change from the typical Harley script you were used to.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG]  began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  \--

GG: okay its been three days! 

GG: are you awake?

GG: dave?

GG: dave are you there?

GG: daaave!

GG: wow way to sleep in bird brain!

GG: fine youre probably still out or something.

GG: kinda sad but i guess i can let it go for now. you better message me the moment you wake up mr cool kid!

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

Okay. A little pushy, but Jade could have easily just been having a bad day. That wasn't too far fetched, right? She had to just be worried about you or something like that. I mean, hey, you were worried for her too. It was a shame that you were dragged off before you could talk to her, but that's cool and all. 

It seems like she had tried to message you the moment you logged on. Yet while you were messaging Rose, the messages appeared to have accumulated steadily. Jesus, it was like she didn't know the simple concept of patience.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

GG: oh good youre FINALLY online!

GG: its about time! >:(

GG: i want to know everything about your transmutation!

GG: dave?

GG: hey, i see your online icon!

GG: wow i thought youd contact me first but im glad to see where i stand!

GG: i mean yeah okay thanks for messaging rose instead of me, or, you know, messaging us at the same time! :)

GG: like that definitely isn't an option! opening TWO chat boxes at once!

GG: i guess its a lot for a dumbass like you to focus on at once.

GG: ill just wait. <3

GG: ...

GG: okay this is officially boring i know you arent talking to her anymore

GG: dave im seriously getting pissed now!

GG: fine

GG: just know that you forced this.

GG: Pchoo!

And that was it, for now. Glancing at the time stamp, it seemed that pchoo was sent around the same time as when your computer officially flipped it's shit and ollied out. Alright, so that was either the weirdest coincidence, or Jade was fucking with you. Maybe Bro was in on it? It was making your ever present headache steadily worse, to the point that the green was actually starting to be physically painful. Hell, even the color of her text was straining your eyes.

It seemed that, just like Rose, she was waiting for you to make the first move. Goddamnit what do you even say after that. "yo hey harley my computer just exploded was that you?"

Actually, now that you think about it, that's actually a pretty decent start. If she was going to keep being this bitchy to you, you may as well be the sass master right back. You were kind of expecting more warm greetings and hellos- not exploding computers and migraine greens.

So, after finally peeling open your eyes long enough to find the chat box, you finally get your response out.

TG: yo hey harley

TG: sorry i was a bit busy

TG: my computer kind of exploded isnt that weird

GG: haha that is weird!

GG: its weird that you didnt reply the moment i started messaging you actually!

GG: so weird, that i decided to get your attention.

GG: its actually pretty rude to ignore someone when youre not busy.

GG: if you didnt want to talk to me you just had to say so stupid! :) 

GG: i dont like having to wait for some airhead dumbass to decide if he wants to talk to his best friends or not.

Owch. Okay, wow, she was pissed.

So pissed, in fact, that it was starting to borderline past what Harley was always capable of. I mean, she would get mad sure, but never this bad. Especially not for something as simple as not replying for five minutes and thirty four seconds. Yes, you fucking counted your existential crisis, just like how you were counting the amount of time between your responses.

One minute and twelve seconds before finally you were moving your hands (claws) back down to type.

TG: what can i say man

TG: shits a lot to take in

TG: but seriously did something happen while i was out

GG: besides rose being transmuted? not really!

TG: alright cool

TG: so why are you so snappy right now

GG: snappy? what are you talking about? im just asking why it took you so long!

GG: i think its completely reasonable to ask!

TG: no see asking and demanding are two different things

TG: youre like jumping your own gun here

TG: instantly coming to the conclusion i have to be ignoring you

TG: maybe bro dragged my ass to the roof 

TG: maybe i dropped something and had to pick it up

TG: the possibilities are endless

GG: hmm....i guess youre right!

GG: except not! >:P

GG: because i know for a fact what you were doing!

GG: you were crying like a little bitch over the fact rose is actually happy for once!

GG: what a good friend you are dave.

It felt like time went still in that one moment. (Except it didn't, you can still feel it ticking). 

Jade knew exactly what you were doing. She knew you talked to Rose, she knew you were grieving, and worst off? She was fucking insulting you over it too. The first thing that crossed your mind was how the fuck could Jade even say shit like this.

You had to pull back before you said something you regretted.

That wasn't happy. That wasn't even CLOSE to being happy. Rose was brainwashed or some shit, mindfucked sideways and slumped out to dry. The Rose you knew would never be truly happy over a transformation like that. Nobody should be happy with it. 

The more you thought about it, the worse your anger became. Rose was a monster, a shell of her former self, and HE'S the bad friend for being concerned over what the hell happened to them? 

Your fingers were flying before you could even think to stop them.

TG: okay no what the fuck do you know

TG: youre over here acting like youre some omnipotent know it all bitch

TG: insulting me and shit

TG: over the fact my own sister isnt even who shes always been

TG: you dont know the shit she sent to me before being dragged off to become some slaphappy alleycat reject

TG: have all of you lost your goddamn minds?

Now you've done it. You felt the crackle of energy before the explosion, the green wave practically erupting from your screen and sending a shock through your monitor. It seemed that a few of the circuits were fried- before instantly the screen was flicking back to pesterchum after successfully knocking all of the shit off of your desk.

Including you.

You could feel unspeakable pain shooting down your spine, having blown out of your chair and landing spread out along your back. The same back that had a pair of still healing wings attached to them.

You had to roll over onto your side just to lessen the pressure on the joints, nearly curling up on yourself as the radiation kept crackling about the room before the green sparks slowly disappeared. So I guess that answers the question of if that's Harley or not. You didn't want to assume, but you had a feeling the still delicate stitching along your back had torn open a bit. 

With a shaking arm, you reach back, only to cringe at the feeling of cold ooze dripping onto your fingers. You didn't know if you should be horrified or not- but it was black. Your fucking blood was black at this point. Not dark black, but a red that undeniable looked almost congealed and clotted. Was that the shit they pumped through you, or your actual blood steadily rotting inside your body? 

You wiped your hand on the carpet before you could think too hard about it. 

It hurt like nobody's business to slowly rise to your feet, gripping the back of your chair and pulling it back up into an upright position. Apple juice bottles and nic nacks could be damned right now, you'll pick those up later. You had messages from the psychotic dog bitch to reply to. 

GG: oh im sorry did that hurt?

GG: looks like im still getting used to the zappy thing, huh!

GG: anyways to answer your question i know a lot. probably way more than any of you now.

GG: i also know that you better shut your fucking mouth before i make you my chew toy!

GG: haha, if you could see my transmutation, that would be way funnier.

GG: but im kind of serious here.

GG: youve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, feather fucker!

GG: its almost like you dont want us to be friends or something!

TG: youve literally been insulting me this entire conversation

GG: that means were friends stupid! sheesh its like you dont even know me at all!

TG: i kind of dont

TG: kind of like how i dont know rose anymore

GG: oh blah blah, cry me a river!

GG: if you even can behind that mask.

While this entire conversation has generally been unpleasant and as awful as you were predicting, that bit seemed to catch your attention. Not just because Jade was being a grade a bitch, but because she somehow seemed to know that you had a mask on your face. You didn't think that Rose was immediately talking to Jade right now to tell her, or that the topic would even be the small details of your transmutation. 

As much as you didn't want to prolong this conversation, you had an itching feeling in the back of your head that Harley's new abilities went beyond just making shit blow up. 

TG: wait

TG: how the fuck do you know i have a mask

GG: oh wow you really are boring. i can blow up your computer, and the first thing you ask me is how i can see you?

TG: to my defense i would ask about that but im afraid id get a hands on demonstration

GG: mmm nah. as funny as it would be to watch, i really do think you better get that wing fixed crobro!

GG: i can see you right now! :) 

GG: spacey powers or some bullshit like that, really boring to explain.

GG: but if only you could see the look on your face!

GG: are you scared dave?

TG: no

GG: then why are you shaking? 

GG: you're such a baby.

TG: man lets think back here a little

TG: i just woke up from my extended transmutation with a pretty grade a infection

TG: i also just talked to my sister who is a completely different person

TG: and have been repeatedly insulted and eventually blown across my room by one of my friends

TG: im a bit pissed if im gonna be frank and honest with you here

GG: buuullshit!

GG: youre totally having a panic attack arent you!

GG: wow you are such a little pansy i cant believe i used to have a crush on you!

GG: why dont you loosen up, let go and let the transmutation do its then, and THEN talk to me!

TG: wait what

GG: bye!

TG: hold on dont you fucking go yet what the hell are you talking about

\-- gardenGnostic [GG]  ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] -

You had a lot of shit to sort out.

Starting with your wing, you suppose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to hold off a bit on Dave messaging John. Not just to give myself a break for formatting, but to give Dave a bit of time to sort shit out internally.  
> I'm thinking after a bit, as Dave's sense of who he is is steadily deteriorated, I may shift the perspective to either other characters, or stay in a third person narrative until Dave has bits and pieces of his recollection return to put it back into his perspective.
> 
> Also! Here's a picture of our favorite bitch: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/8d/96/e6/8d96e6729c105e96a81856c83ba29ea8.png. The art is by MinatureOwl on tumblr! Shoutout for always drawing the best Henioustuck reference images.


End file.
